"At last I managed to free the reluctant jib sheet and slither, like a piece of soggy seaweed, over the stern deck into the boat. The boat itself resembled a heavily laden tanker, with her decks awash. I quickly dropped the mainsail I remember the gaff bouncing off my shoulder and brought the mizzen mast and sail aboard, which had dropped out of the boat while she was bottom-up.

"The cockpit was rather a mess and bailing out was impossible as Id lost the two buckets in my haste to rig and catch the tide, Id forgotten to lash some important bits to the boat. My rucksack, flares, spare lifejacket, floorboards, sandwiches and so on had all gone, but the oars, rowlocks and all the rig remained [...]

"The thirty minutes I had spent having fun in the water passed quite quickly, but drifting slowly for hours in cold water was another matter entirely [...] I started experimenting with just the jib and tiller and found she would sail downwind very slowly [...]

"The shore looked to be about two miles away: we still had to cross the north channel shipping lane, but [...] I discovered that my cigarettes and lighter, stowed on top of my head under a hat, were still dry, so I lit up and decided that I would probably live after all. Things were looking up!

A tale told in full on Gavin Atkin​'s excellent weblog: http://intheboatshed.net/2016/01/13/...ll-went-wrong/